


Sugar, we’re going down swinging

by Hamilzander_Alexton



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: An - Freeform, Crowley likes fighting, Gabe is kind soft, Gabriel has a shit Ton of petnames for crowley, I, I love the dynamic they have in my head, Irish Mafia, M/M, Mafia AU, This story just serves as an excuse to write Gabriel/Crowley, another story?, beelzebub is done with both Gabriel and Crowley, e - Freeform, have, i will die for them, issu, oh my, violent boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamilzander_Alexton/pseuds/Hamilzander_Alexton
Summary: Mafia auCrowley’s in the Irish mobGabriel, his boyfriend, is son of the police chief....And I oop-





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley hadn’t meant to join the local mob… He just followed in Beelzebub’s footsteps. He was eager to impress his elder sibling. 

And now, well  _ now _ he was knee-deep in shit, trying to convince his boyfriend, (who happened to be the son of their city’s police chief) that everything was alright. That his fights and injuries were from innocent schoolyard fights instead of drug runs and cop fights. 

The head of the ‘family’ (a man named Lucifer) had taken a liking to Beelzebub and Crowley, which made them practically royalty, but it also put quite a large price on both of their heads. It was a bad situation, no doubt… but the money was great, and the treatment was even better. They walked the streets like gods. No one touched them. Only the cops dared to step up to them, but even then, they rarely did anything. 

Crowley hated lying to his boyfriend… but he wasn’t going to be the one to rat on the ‘family’. He had seen what happened to snitches and he refused to become an example for someone else. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the fights and such. Crowley had a bit of an issue with anger management and such a violent lifestyle left him better off in his life outside of the mob. He was genuinely better off because of his involvement in the mafia. 

\---

“Why can’t you just tell me, Crowley?” Gabriel huffed. “It’s just a job!”

  
  


Crowley bit his bottom lip, “Gabe, I’m sorry. But you have to trust me that you do not want to know. You really don’t.”

“This is ridiculous, Anthony J. Crowley! We promised to be honest with each other when we started this! You promised me!”

Crowley’s heart just tore in two at that. “Gabriel, darling… Please don’t.” He murmured. “I can’t tell you. I’m so, so sorry. But I can’t.”

Gabriel cupped Crowley’s cheek. “Why? Are you in some sort of danger? My father is the police chief, whatever danger you’re in, he can help you.” 

Crowley sighed, laying his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I’m not in trouble. I’m not. But if I tell you, I will be, so please, Gabe, just stop asking.” 

The taller boy frowned. “Alright. Alright. I’ll stop asking you about it, Crowley.” 

“Thank you. Thank you. I wish I could tell you. I really do.” Crowley murmured. 

Gabriel shushed him, “Stop blabbering.” He murmured. “You’ll tell me eventually, right?”

“If we marry.”

And Gabriel laughed, figuring he was just being overdramatic, but Crowley was dead serious. 

\---

“Goddamn it, Crowley! Hurry the fuck up!” Beelzebub spat, shooting from behind their cover. 

  
  


“I’M HURRYING, DAMN IT!” He shouted, furrowing his brow. It was a drop-off gone wrong. They were meant to deliver the goods and leave, not get caught by an undercover officer and get involved in a police shoot-out. Crowley was caught up in a fistfight with an office that had lost their gun. 

One good punch sent Crowley staggering back, wincing. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself, wiping the blood away from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. 

A second good punch had everything going black. 

\---

Crowley woke up in a familiar room with two familiar faces staring down at him, worried. 

“You dumb-fuck. How do you lose a fist-fight?” Beelzebub hissed.

Gabriel glared at Crowley’s sibling, sneering. “Leave him alone. He doesn’t need your insults after he’s just woken up.” 

“Listen, Pretty boy, I’m well aware of what he can tolerate. He’s my little brother.” They hissed. 

“He’s my boyfriend! Don’t forget that you brought him to my house.” He muttered, narrowing his eyes. 

Crowley groaned, “Can youse lot shuddap for one bleedin’ second?” He raised a hand to his aching head. “Beez, what the hell happened?”

“You lost, stupid. Went down like a sack of potatoes. I finished ‘em off and brought you here because it was closer than our house.” They muttered.

Crowley nodded, but the moment made him wince. “It hurts.” He whined. 

“Quit crying, you baby.” Beelzebub rolled their eyes. 

Gabriel seethed at Beelzebub’s response and gripped Crowley’s hand. “Would you like an ice-pack, dear?”

“No, Gabe, I imagine I’ll be fine without it.”

The afternoon went slower than ever that day.


	2. Chapter 2

Beelzebub and Gabriel had bickered the entire time and it seemed as if Crowley could never get a word in edgewise. 

\---

“If the two of you were fighting together and you finished everyone off, then explain how Anthony is covered in bruises from head-to-toe and you haven’t a scratch on you,” Gabriel demanded scathingly.

“I had a gun, dipshit.” 

That was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Gabriel went stiff as a rod, eyes wide. “P-Pardon?”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes, turning to Crowley. “Anti-gun?” They asked, in reference to Gabriel.

Crowley let out a wheezy laugh. “Gabe’s anti-everything, Beez.” He reached for Gabriel’s hand. “Paintball gun, Gabe. They had a paintball gun.” He lied smoothly. “No real harm done.”

Gabriel scooted closer to his boyfriend on the bed, still a bit shaken. 

Crowley wrapped his arms around the taller teen’s torso, laying his head on Gabriel’s chest. “You scare so easy, Baby.”

Gabriel, to his credit, just sighed. “I know, Darlin’.”

Oh, how Crowley adored that American accent. 

This was hard on Crowley, lying like this. But he could only imagine how much harder it was on Gabriel. He reached up running his hand through Gabriel’s hair. Crowley wished he could have this pure domesticity all the time. He craved these, these sweet moments of just holding each other. But they couldn’t last. They never lasted. Crowley shifted, turning on his side, even though it hurt like hell. He looked up at Gabriel, sighing softly. Beelzebub had left to use the bathroom, giving the two of them well-needed privacy. 

“Gabriel, tell me what’s wrong?” Crowley insisted, he could tell something was off. 

“I don’t trust your sibling, Anthony. I’m sorry, but they look like trouble.” 

Crowley sat up a bit. “What do you mean by ‘Trouble’?”

“A gun, Anthony! They had a gun! And don’t you dare try to lie to me again and tell me that it was paintball gun.” 

“I…” Crowley bit his lip. “It wasn’t a paintball gun, Gabriel.” He admitted, fussing with his sleeve. “But, Beez isn’t a bad person.” Crowley was loyal to very few people, but Beelzebub was at the very top of that list. He wouldn’t let Gabriel make a case against them without a fair trial. “They were only protecting me, Gabe… You have to understand that we don’t live in the best part of town… Everyone carries guns around our place.”

That was enough to placate Gabriel for the moment. He sighed, “If you say so, Ant… But if that's true, then I’m even more worried about you…”

  
  


The conversation tapered off after that, devolving into nothing.

\---

It wasn’t until Beelzebub and Crowley were home that they actually voiced their opinion of their little brother’s boyfriend. 

“A cop’s kid, of all people? Are you some sort of glutton for punishment, Crowley?” 

Crowley didn’t meet their eyes. “It’s not like I asked what his dad did before I fell for him, Beelzebub. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know.”

“He challenged me, Crowley.”

“And He’ll likely continue to do so. You need to just let it slide. If you try and force your authority, he’ll figure out what we do, and the whole family will go down in flames.”

Beelzebub sneered at that, but Crowley was right, as much as they hated it. “Let's go to bed, you need rest.”

Crowley didn’t argue, he had no energy to.

\---

Pay-day came around and Crowley had a large lump of cash burning in his pocket. He was eager to treat Gabriel to… something. He wasn’t quite sure what yet. Maybe a movie, maybe lunch, maybe a trip to that stupid store in the mall he loved. Just, something nice. 

When Gabriel answered the front door, Crowley couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, Gabey-Baby.” His hair was pulled back into to a tight ponytail, he didn’t pull his hair up around Gabriel, mostly because of a small little tattoo in front of his ear that marked him as a member of Lucifer’s mafia, but he had just thrown it up that morning without a care in the world. 

Crowley’s stomach dropped when Gabriel’s eyes narrowed on the tattoo, studying it. “What’s that?”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“What’s what?” Crowley asked, almost succeeding in sounding casual. 

  
  


Gabriel took a step forward, reaching out to touch the tattoo, his face unreadable. “Anthony, please tell me you didn’t.” He murmured, eyes wide. “Please.”

  
  


Crowley stepped back. “Gabe… It’s not what you think. Really, it’s not.” He tried to explain. 

Gabriel wasn’t listening to him though. “So this is the job you couldn’t tell me about. You’re a fucking mobster.” He spat, voice like poison, sharp and painful. 

  
  


“Keep your voice down.” Crowley hissed desperately. 

Gabriel felt so utterly betrayed at that point, like everything he knew was a lie. “Have you… Have you ever killed someone?” He looked Crowley in the eye. “Be honest, Crowley.”

  
  


“No. I’ve never killed anyone, Darling.”

  
  


“Don’t you dare fucking call me that, Anthony. You have no right.” Gabriel kept his composure, but he was boiling mad. He was beyond mad. “What about that sibling of yours, Hm? Beelzebub, have they ever killed someone?” 

  
  


Crowley hesitated. He didn’t want to answer that… not honestly at least. 

  
  


“Leave.” Gabriel hissed, glaring at Crowley. “Get out of here before I call the fucking cops and have you sent to prison. I can’t believe you fucking lied to me!”

  
  


Crowley gulped, nodding. “Y-Yes… right. I’ll be going then.” He murmured, sheepish like a dog with its tail between its legs. He made his way back to his car, driving away fast enough to leave tyre skids in the street. He gritted his teeth, tears blurring his vision. He slammed his fist down on the centre of the steering wheel. Gabriel didn’t even let him fucking explain! Crowley was swerving dangerously through the lanes. It was an empty road, but that didn’t mean a car couldn’t pop up out of nowhere. 

  
  


A cop happened to be sitting in a parking lot, just sort of watching for reckless drivers. When Crowley sped past him, going ninety miles in a residential area, well, he had no choice but to pull the other over. 

Crowley huffed, wiping his eyes as he waited for the officer to approach. He dug through his wallet, searching for his liscense. Could today get any fucking worse?

The officer, Gabriel’s dad, of all people, approached. Of course it was Gabriel’s father. Why wouldn’t it be.

“Anthony?” The man asked.

  
  


“Yessir?” He huffed. 

  
  


“Why the hell are you goin’ so fast, son? This is a twenty-five area.”

  
  


Crowley sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realise.”   
  


The man wanted to cut Crowley a break, he really did… but to go that fast without even realising? He had to take Crowley off the streets. “C’mon, son. I’m takin’ you down to the station.”

The teen’s eyes went wide. “What? Why?! I was only speeding!”

  
  


“Don’t argue, it’s only until you can get picked up by someone. We’ll book you and you’ll sit in a holdin’ cell for awhile. Nothin’ too serious.”

  
  


“What’s gonna happen to my car?”

“I’ll have it towed to my house, you can pick it up later.”

Crowley sighed, turning the car completely off and getting out. “Yessir.”


End file.
